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The field of
symphonies is so vast that it is easy to choose ones that are quite familiar,
less familiar or almost totally unfamiliar – and still be within the general
purview of the word “symphony.” Brahms’ First is as mainstream as symphonies
get, but the new recording on the Wiener Symphoniker’s own label is almost
certainly unknown to today’s listeners. It is in fact not a “new” recording at
all, but an expert remastering of a recording dating back to 1952 and featuring
Sergiu Celibidache (1912-1996). Celibidache was no fan of recordings, stating
that they would be the death of music because they could never reproduce the
concert-hall experience effectively. That is true as far as it goes, even for
live recordings, but the type of experience that CDs (and, before them,
cassettes and vinyl and 78s) offer is just as valid as that in the concert hall
– albeit different.As it turns out,
Celibidache’s reading of Brahms’ First makes a strong case for recorded sound.
The original engineers must have done an exceptional-for-its-time job with
microphone placement, because the recording – of a live performance and originally
in mono – is surprisingly full, rich and detailed, and the orchestra, among the
best in the world at the time if not the very best of all, sounds absolutely
wonderful.The horn resonance alone is a
major surprise – the modern engineers clearly did as fine a job as did the
original ones.The performance is an
interesting, even quirky one. The first two movements flow beautifully and with
considerable strength. The third, though, is quite slow, almost bringing the
forward motion to a halt.And the
finale, which Celibidache clearly saw as the work’s capstone and a monumental
achievement in its own right, is just plain strange: after the opening Adagio
section, Celibidache holds back so far on the start of the main section that he
nearly achieves stasis – surely not Brahms’ intent. Then he speeds up the tempo
and turns the fourth movement into an impressively grand one.The performance will not be to all tastes,
for sure, and neither will the 60-year-old sound, no matter how impressively it
has been restored.But the disc is
nevertheless a significant accomplishment and an important addition to the
lengthy catalog of readings of this symphony.

There are fewer
renditions of Tchaikovsky’s Third available: this is a mainstream symphony,
yes, but it is the least-played of Tchaikovsky’s six (and the only one in a
major key: D). Mikhail Pletnev’s now-complete Tchaikovsky cycle for PentaTone,
despite uniformly top-notch playing by the Russian National Orchestra, has been
quite uneven, ranging from excellent to distinctly disappointing, so it is good
to discover that his Third is a winner. The tempos are well chosen, the
balletic elements so important to this symphony are well communicated and
thoroughly understood, the lighter moments are nicely contrasted with the
more-serious ones, and the overall effect is of a substantial work with
considerable drive, brightness and elegance.The only disappointment is the third of the fifth movements, the central
Andante, which Pletnev takes too slowly and deliberately, so that it somewhat
overweights the symphony as a whole in its direction. The interpretation is
justifiable, but in light of the mostly jaunty tempos elsewhere, the movement
seems a bit overthought and overdone. Still, that is a relatively small quibble
about what is as a whole an effective and well-structured performance. One
irritation: Pletnev’s Tchaikovsky SACDs are not particularly generous with filler
material, and this one is no exception – the 46-minute symphony is complemented
only by the six-minute Coronation March,
a well-written occasional piece composed for the coronation of Tsar Alexander
III, who commissioned it. It contains quotes from the Russian national anthem
and from the royal anthem of Denmark (the empress was a Danish princess), all
within an appropriate setting of pomp and circumstance. Like the symphony, it
is exceptionally well played, but it is not a particularly significant work or
a very generous addition to the symphonic offering.

Pletnev’s PentaTone
version of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth will inevitably be compared with the one he and
his orchestra made for Virgin Classics in 1991 as their first-ever recording,
which was a bombshell: an outstanding, deeply felt and remarkably well-played
rendition of the symphony that was declared the best recorded performance ever
in some quarters.The PentaTone version
bears the comparison exceptionally well: it is amazingly well played, exceptionally
well recorded (much better than the 20-year-old version), and filled with
highly sensitive touches. The opening bassoon, for example, sounds particularly
gloomy here, while the gorgeous main theme of the first movement has a yearning
wistfulness that is deeply felt without being mawkish or overdone.Pletnev has broadened his view of the
symphony: the first and last movements on PentaTone are both longer than on
Virgin Classics, where they were already expansive.But nothing in them feels stretched; nor do
the middle movements sound rushed.The
second movement flows with considerable beauty and elegance, while the
scurrying, speedy opening of the third effectively introduces a movement whose
increasingly frenetic tone makes the depressive start of the finale all the
more pathétique. The last
movement starts almost languidly, moving more deeply into despair as it
progresses and eventually fading into nothingness with a very moving sigh of
resignation.This performance reaffirms
the symphony’s firm place in the classical-music canon and Pletnev’s expertise
with the work.And the contrast with Capriccio Italien – the filler material
on this SACD and an equally mainstream composition – is a particularly strong
one. Pletnev and the RNO are expansive here, too, well-focused on instrumental
details and rhythms and on the generally upbeat nature of the piece.

Mahler’s Eighth
Symphony exists on the fringes of the mainstream repertoire. Its huge
performance requirements – it earned the nickname “Symphony of a Thousand” at
its première – prevent it from
being presented with great frequency, but it has become a popular recording
project in part because of the huge
sonic demands it makes.The pairing of
the ninth-century hymn, Veni, creator
spiritus, with the final scene from Goethe’s Faust, remains an unusual and highly effective one, and Mahler’s
brilliant workmanship in having themes from the first part penetrate and
permeate the second makes the Eighth a tour
de force for conductors, singers and audiences alike.Markus Stenz is a very fine Mahler conductor,
and his Eighth reaffirms his reputation. The first part strides forth speedily
and with intensity, sweeping all before it into an affirmative call not so much
for divinity as for creativity.The
second part opens with particularly effective orchestral scene-painting – this
is the only portion of the Eighth that sounds immediately and indubitably
“Mahlerian.”Stenz focuses on the
instrumental elements of this second part, very clearly delineating sections
that bring back themes from the first portion of the work.His soloists are all fine, although they
sometimes compete with the orchestra and lose out: Brandon Jovanovich is an
emotionally strong Doctor Marianus, for example, but his voice sometimes is subsumed
within the instrumental portions of the music.Stenz manages to keep all six choir ensembles together and quite precise
in their entrances and the juxtapositions of their sections – no small
achievement. And by the time of the last 10 minutes of the work, with their
climb into ethereality and affirmation of the Eternal Feminine, Stenz has
produced a sense of anticipation that is brilliantly fulfilled in the wonderful
final Chorus Mysticus and concluding instrumental chords. This is a performance
that reaches for the stars and attains them.

Like the Mahler
Eighth, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 6
is not quite mainstream, although it does appear occasionally on concert
programs (years ago, when only five Dvořák
symphonies were known, it was designated No. 1).The third volume in José Serebrier’s Dvořák cycle pairs it with the Symphony
No. 3, which is almost wholly unknown.The
Third is Dvořák’s only
three-movement symphony, with two lengthy and closely connected movements
followed by a less-than-wholly-satisfactory, shorter finale – Dvořák had difficulty concluding his
symphonies, with No. 6 in fact being the first whose final movement is fully
satisfactory.Serebrier takes a few too
many liberties with the first movement of the Third, being a little too fond of
rubato, as indeed he was in the
previous recordings in this series.And
the Bournemouth Symphony, although it plays quite well, does not have the full,
lush string sound that maximizes Dvořák’s
effectiveness.But all in all, the Third
gets an effective performance, and the conclusion is rousing.In the Sixth, the most Brahmsian of Dvořák’s symphonies, Serebrier again
lets his tendency to tinker with opening movements carry him away, slowing down
repeatedly in the Allegro non tanto
in an apparent bid for emotional involvement that succeeds only in bringing the
movement nearly to a halt again and again.Since Serebrier correctly observes the repeat of the exposition, this
creates a symphony overweighted toward its opening rather than one simply built
on the large canvas that Dvořák
intended.The third and fourth movements
are the best here, with Serebrier generally allowing them full expression as Dvořák intended, although even in these
movements (notably in the coda of the finale) the conductor imposes some
unwarranted tempo alterations on the music – not to its benefit.The CD has many strengths, but gets a (+++)
rating because of Serebrier’s capriciousness.

The symphonies of Carl
Maria von Weber are far more modest in scale than those of Brahms, Tchaikovsky,
Mahler and Dvořák, but they are
delightful pieces redolent of the sensibilities of Haydn – that is how Weber
planned them – and showing a later age looking back at the Classical era in
much the same way that Prokofiev’s “Classical” Symphony did in the next
century. Both the Weber symphonies are in C, and both are light, bright and
very well balanced – although not quite as elegant in formal structure as their
models in Haydn.The themes are
well-chosen, nicely developed and allowed to go on just long enough; there is
nothing heaven-storming about these modest and highly attractive works. In a
new (++++) recording, the BBC Philharmonic under Juanjo Mena plays them with
verve and just the right amount of spiritedness: these symphonies are not heard
particularly often, but they should be offeredmore frequently, having much to commend themselves in their sunny
dispositions and Weber’s skillful orchestration. This Chandos CD also contains
Weber’s Bassoon Concerto, which gets a rousing rendition from Karen Geoghegan.
The concerto, which requires even more virtuosity than do the many bassoon
concertos of Vivaldi, is tuneful and elegant, reserving the more amusing
elements of the instrument’s sound for the finale, while otherwise treating the
bassoon simply as a virtuoso woodwind.And the CD also includes one of Weber’s most popular works, Invitation to the Dance, in the colorful
orchestral version by Berlioz.This
makes a great curtain-raiser or encore piece – it occupies the first position
on this particular CD – and Mena leads it with spirit and a fine sense of
rhythmic vitality.Weber was certainly
not a major symphonist – he is, justly, most famous for his operas – but he had
considerable skill in instrumentation and melodic invention, and that skill is
fully on display here.

For symphonies that
are really outside the mainstream,
listeners can turn to the six Organ Symphonies of Louis Vierne
(1870-1937).These are huge works, decidedly
symphonic in scope although not always in structure (No. 1 has six movements,
No. 2 a somewhat-more-usual five).Vierne was a master organist, and his works are enormously challenging
to play. Full cycles of them are exceptionally difficult to bring off, but
Audite’s new one by Hans-Eberhard Roß
shows tremendous promise, based on its first volume.Roß plays the recently completed Goll Organ of St. Martin, Memmingen,
which is a particularly felicitous choice for these Vierne works: its fullness
and power are nicely complemented by delicacy and lyricism, providing the
tremendous sonic and emotional range that these pieces require. And the
polyphony of the music comes through clearly, thanks to the fine
acoustics.There is always a deep
spiritual dimension to Vierne’s works, and Roß is sensitive to it without ever becoming overbearing or pushing the music
too hard in a particular direction.These are masterful works that truly deserve to be called symphonies,
sounding not at all like the organ works of Bach and other masters of the
Baroque – but clearly influenced by them; this too is an element of which Roß is quite aware.The fine sound of this (++++) SACD here
washes over the listener, pulling him or her entirely into Vierne’s universe,
and showing that the symphonic form, in its many variations and incarnations,
has retained its power over the centuries and can even be used in a highly
effective way for pieces created for a single instrument – provided that the
instrument has symphonic capabilities, as the great organs (including that of
St. Martin, Memmingen) decidedly do.